bare soul

My parents divorced and the house is for sale.  The photographs marking the growth of family through the years have left their place on the walls; packed away, forgotten. My mother’s cookbooks no longer lounge on the kitchen bookshelf. The pantry that once fed my siblings and our friends is empty.

In the process my single heart, uprooted, also flaps a for sale sign; casting about to find a home.

Somewhere along the days I have lived thus far I neglected to root elsewhere. Un-tethered and adventurous I had 4 different addresses in the past 4 years. Perhaps I am darting about to avoid committing; fearing I will miss opportunity.  Perhaps if I keep moving, I will out pace the loneliness and avoid its entrapping tentacles. And yet simultaneously my soul longs to be stationary, grounded, to hang my own photos on the walls, year after year, marking time.

How does one live in the space of discomfort: suspended above stability and swaying whatever direction the wind blows? How does one let go of the key that used to let you through the door to your refuge?

And then the still small voice reminds me I am already bought, worth the greatest price. I am whole with the fierce pursuit of my God after my heart; holding me together as the surrounding walls crumble to the ground, the foundation cracked and barred.

And the sun rises again. The trees are gold tipped as dawn breaks. The snaking river glides over the foundational rocks.

I stride into the hospital ready for another day to care for broken and desperate souls that long to find the same belonging as I. We are not that different.